


Better Late Than Never (already dead)

by Lincoln_still_sucks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lincoln_still_sucks/pseuds/Lincoln_still_sucks
Summary: Wilson refuses to die without letting House know he loves him
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	Better Late Than Never (already dead)

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in my feels and needed these dumb fuckers to kiss

The world Wilson had created was ending. His perfect world that consisted almost solely of House, work and himself was caving in oh so quickly, karma was a fraud, a fickle bitch at best, and Wilson would die. He was too young, too good, he did everything that he could’ve done right, but in the end it all came down to chance, genetics and a cruel mistress known as fate. The back of House’s motorcycle seemed like the last place to contemplate his impending death, but when he thought about it, there was no good place to do it. He gripped tighter to House’s waist, reminding himself that yes, they were still alive (well, according to everybody else only one of them was) and not just that, he was more alive than ever in that moment.

Wilson had about five months to live as he pleased with House. How much of that five months could have been lived comfortably, Wilson didn’t know, but that was scary and definitely beside the point. He had a chance to do so many things he couldn’t before, say the words that always lingered on the back of his tongue only to be swallowed down before he could get them out. Most importantly, he could, without question, spend the rest of his life with the only person he would be okay dying with. It wasn’t an ideal death, but in terms of having terminal cancer, it was as good as it gets. He had seen many a patient fall to a similar fate, but they didn’t have a Greg House to give them the last tastes of life before it was inevitably and painfully extinguished.

~

There’s always this idea that when you know you’ll die, you’re miserable in that last time you’re allowed to spend with the living. Wilson’s anxiety about death faded after an hour and a half on the road, replaced with this giddy excitement of knowing he was about to live his life, and really fucking live it this time around. It was liberating, which overpowered just how terrifying it all was.

Wilson never decided on the first place to go, instead leaving it up to House, who similarly didn’t make a decision, and left it up to whatever highway exits he decided to take. The first night, they wound up in a motel in Rhode Island. As they checked in, Wilson couldn’t help but watch House with a sort of awe. He smiled, and it wasn’t like the kinds of smiles Wilson got out of him when he was particularly caught off guard, it was so beautifully genuine, and it was everything but fleeting. He smiled at the clerk as he got his key card, then back at Wilson, his smile lines and crow’s feet very prominent. It was a sight to behold.

As they made their way to their room, it took all of Wilson’s energy not to just kiss him right there in the middle of the hallway. He may have been dying, but he had a bit of dignity, which he knew wouldn’t last long under the circumstances.

Wilson dropped their shared travel bag on the floor right inside the room once House got the door open. House was gorgeous, serene, joyful, and so very alive. He wanted to touch him so bad, and part of his brain told him to repress the urge, as it had told him for years. He sat himself on the weird motel loveseat. House sat right next to him, enjoying a moment of peaceful silence before finally talking.

“So, we’re dead.” House said, his unusually jovial expression clashing with his statement. It was contagious, Wilson was smiling like an idiot in no time at all.

“We sure are.” Was all he could think to say. His fingers drummed a rhythm against the armrest, too excited to stay truly still, even if he was quite physically tired. Silence passed between them, only for a few moments.

“Is there anything you were too scared to do when you were alive?” Wilson asked, out of genuine curiosity, and that childish giddiness. It felt like asking the pretty girl he liked in his class if she had a crush in that hope she would say yes and they’d have their romance movie scene where they revealed they both liked each other. It never happened, but a lot of things that never happened were happening lately. 

“Of course. Everybody does, it’s the curse of being alive.” He answered, all too simply. “What were you scared of, James?” 

Wilson felt a jolt in his heart. There was an almost unsettling intensity in House’s tone, immediately turning the air from one of carefree joy to a more serious (yet not unpleasant) atmosphere. He thought for a moment.

“Being rejected.” Wilson considered telling House everything, about the way he had fallen so hopelessly in love, and never quite fell out, about how House was the only person he never abandoned, the only person that held his interest, and the only person he ever really loved with such intensity. He didn’t see why he shouldn’t tell him, but feared he would choke on his words. He held them, forcing them down, at least for the next five minutes. He was going to say it, there was no way he was going to die without telling House.

“What did you fear?” Wilson asked once it became apparent House had no intention to comment on his answer. House gave Wilson a thoughtful look, pressing his lips together as he did what Wilson could only assume was form a good reply.

“That we’d die before I ever got to show you how I feel.” He looked up at Wilson with a look so rare on him. He was seeking approval, looking for the response he wanted - no, that he needed - so desperately. Wilson’s face heated up, he could feel his pulse quicken, at a rapid pace that led him to wonder how long his heart could handle it. He’d sooner die of cardiac arrest than cancer if this went on much longer.

“Show me. We may already be dead, but as they say ‘better late than never’.” Wilson tried to keep some semblance of composure, but he knew he was flushed and shaky, there was no use in hiding it. House set his hand over top of Wilson’s resting on the arm of the sofa, the other reached up to cup his cheek. Wilson leaned into the touch, reveling in the rough fingertips grazing his jaw, calloused from years of stringed instruments and various other abuses. It was lovely, the way House’s thumb soothed over his face, the way his face was growing closer, a certain kind of nervous look worrying his features. Wilson closed his eyes and relaxed his jaw, to be met with House’s lips against his, so delicate, as if he feared he’d hurt Wilson.

House took his hand off of Wilson’s, opting to set it on his waist, pulling Wilson all the closer as they kissed. Their knees banged together a bit, Wilson kept trying to get closer, unto him and House’s chest were nearly touching. They moved deftly against each other, like they had with so many people, but never each other, which Wilson thought was quite a shame. If only he could have done this sooner, but there was no time for trepidation, after all, he was getting kissed by his best friend.

They parted their lips, and Wilson couldn’t help that sweet little sigh of relief. House’s hand tightened on his waist and Wilson rested his on House’s shoulder. House parted lips, hands lingering where they were, and where Wilson wished they could stay forever. The gap between them was minuscule, it was delightful and the mutual feeling of closeness more than made up for the lack of lips on Wilson’s own. He pressed his forehead to House’s, giving a breath of soft laughter, the action was reciprocated. It was so warm, so intimate, so many other adjectives one would not normally associate with House. 

But this was far from normal, wasn’t it? House was legally dead, Wilson was only months away from being genuinely dead, and they were in a motel in Rhode Island, to never see their old friends and acquaintances again. Wilson was pretty sure this was in fact the antithesis of normal, and he would be quite justified in thinking that.

“Would it be too sappy if I said I love you?” Wilson asked, quickly pressing a kiss to House’s cheek. He slumped over onto his partner, careful not to bother his leg, and House seemed more than content to just hold him like that. 

“It would, and it would be even worse if I said I love you too.” House whispered, breaking out in a goofy smile. 

_ Maybe dying isn’t so bad after all. _

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ Lincoln-still-sucks for House MD shitposting


End file.
